


By Some Strange Coincidence

by fragglerooster (god_is_undead)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Down Periscope style AU thing, Enemies to Lovers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm not even a little bit sorry, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 01:11:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14863817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/god_is_undead/pseuds/fragglerooster
Summary: Kylo Ren is sick of General Hux's lack of respect and appreciation for any of his abilities--so he suggests a wager: Hux has a week to use any resources in the First Order's corner to capture Kylo Ren, in any ship Hux sees fit to give him. If Hux wins, Kylo will promote him to Grand Marshal. If Kylo evades Hux for a week, Hux has to give a speech on the public holos praising Kylo Ren.(Based off of Down Periscope.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so, you might be thinking, Don't start a new fucking story when you already have so much unfinished. Ok but I see that and I raise you a Down Periscope is my favorite Navy movie ever. 
> 
> This was suggested by a kylux kink post on Tumblr (yeah ok I lurk sometimes, lol), and...and.......I didn't see anyone else writing things (maybe they have, but I haven't seen it) and how could I resist? This will be updated slowly, but...I'll try.

Hux pushed his sleeping mask out of his eyes. He wore a black robe that hung off his slender, pale shoulders, and he hadn’t bothered to put his arms into its sleeves before he appeared at the door.

“What,” Hux began in a guttural, sleep-soaked voice, “The  _actual_   _karking hell_  do you want at this hour, Ren? I have three hours until my shift starts and—”

Kylo ignored Hux’s half-asleep ranting (which continued past the point where Kylo tuned out the details) as he pushed past him into his stateroom. It was as large as Ren’s own, with this outer area and a door that opened to the sleeping area, with the regulation-style bed, and a bay window that let in the starlight, the transparisteel tinted and polarized so that the deathly white of the  _Finalizer_ ’s hull wouldn’t reflect inside too brightly. A starship was under the same constant light, around the clock.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Hux spluttered, standing at the door and gaping at him as if Ren had completely lost his mind. “How did you even get in here? I should know if you had broken in, there are  _alarms_ , and I have encrypted locks on all the—”

“I told the Engineering Officer that she had five minutes to get your door open or I’d start killing her technicians a tenth at a time.”

“ _You threatened to decimate my technicians?!_ ” Somehow, Hux’s voice had gone earsplittingly shrill. Ren couldn’t quite help but wince.

“You should be proud of them, General—it only took them forty-seven seconds to remotely unlock everything.”

Hux gaped at him, red as his hair, like he didn’t know whether to feel pride in the efficiency of First Order technicians, comm the Engineering Officer and scream at her for opening the door, or to blow his stack over Ren’s audacity. Well—his thoughts were fairly hammering at Kylo. He  _didn’t_  know which one he wanted to do. Then, almost giving Kylo psychic whiplash, Hux gathered his composure and drew himself up into a picture of sneering offense with a dead-eyed stare.

“Is there a purpose for your visit, Supreme Leader?” Hux asked, his voice lethally calm.

“I had a thought,” Kylo blurted out.

Hux managed, with a raised orange brow, to impart  _well, it had to happen sooner or later_ without saying a single word. Kylo graciously ignored it.

“I mean, I have a proposition.”

That brow, then the rest of him, went unnaturally still, and Hux seemed to lean back on his heels, eyes flickering down to Ren’s feet and then back to his face, then, tensely, down and to the side, as if trying hard not to look at the be bed before jerking that gaze back to Kylo. Hux was already fairly vibrating with alertness and tension in the Force like a taut line just before it snapped back, and then a sudden disgusted unease seemed to run just beneath the surface, flickering just out of reach.

“Yes, Supreme Leader?”

“You’ve wanted to be Grand Marshal for a long time, Hux. Snoke never gave it to you—he dangled it at the end of a stick.”

Hux’s mouth tightened as he regarded Kylo narrowly.

“Don’t deny it. Your thoughts betray you.”

An almost incandescent flash of anger burned through Hux’s mask through his green eyes for a moment before he reined it in. Hux didn’t get a chance to speak before Kylo barreled on. He looked directly at Hux, whose hair was in complete disarray, smashed flat on one side and a fluffy mess on the other. He’d never seen that before. Without the severity of his usual gel and shave, the other man looked younger, less…

“You never acknowledged my role in the liberation of Coruscant. When you gave a speech for the holos about it you never mentioned it once.” It was hard to hide the real hurt there; Kylo smothered it with equally genuine indignation and anger. He’d  _let_  Hux take point on that and—

Hux seemed to startle, and he blinked twice before he gathered his wits enough to speak. Kylo could tell he felt wrong-footed, somehow.

“I beg your pardon, Supreme Leader?”

“You never acknowledge my contributions. I led the assault. It’s because of me that we won that battle. And you’ve never acknowledged it. Not once.”

Hux stared at him for several seconds. His mind turned over and turned over again, sieving through thoughts too quickly for Kylo to pick up distinct details.

“Coruscant came willingly to the First Order.”

“The Rebellion tried to stop us. It’s because of me that they didn’t.”

“The Rebellion, whose strength is no more consequential than a handful of antique starships, a loose gang of reprobates and criminals whom no one in the galaxy cares a fig for anymore. It was hardly a coup of skill and ability on the order of the Battle of Coruscant.”

Kylo clenched his fists in frustration. Hadn’t that been one of the Empire’s mistakes—underestimating the Rebellion’s gathering momentum while the it gathered all its eggs in one basket in two Death Stars? Kylo sometimes wondered if Hux would have just thought that was a  _Rebel_  opinion. It certainly never seemed to occur to the General when he was building Starkiller.

“With all due respect, Supreme Leader,” Hux said, with a faint grudging undertone.

Kylo hadn’t  _not_  been paying attention as a child to all the politics of his mother’s life. By cutting him out of the public eye, Hux was undercutting his authority.

Hux didn’t respect him, not at all. Not as a warrior, and definitely not in his role as Supreme Leader. Kylo could shake him by the throat until Hux was either dead or had learned not to question orders, but that wouldn’t do him any good, would it? Hux  _was_  useful. He wasn’t exactly Grand Admiral Thrawn reborn, but he had cunning. If Kylo wasn’t careful, he’d end up like the many others whose bodies Hux had scrabbled and clawed over in pursuit of the things he wanted, or else less a General.

“I want to make a wager with you.”

It was a crazy idea. He’d come up with it in that weird place in between sleeping and awake, but as soon as it hit him he was up and skidding through the passageways barking into his commlink.

Hux’s expression flickered in confusion, but only momentarily.

“One week,” Kylo said. “An hour head start.  _Any_  ship you give me, no matter how old it is, I’ll outrun you—provided it flies, has life support, and can go into hyperspace. And no deliberate sabotage.” He didn’t trust Hux not to give him a speeder that was broken in half and park a dreadnought over his head with the guns primed. “If you can capture me within a week, I’ll make you Grand Marshal.”

Hux’s eyes widened. He was suddenly 110% present and accounted for.

“What resources are available to me?”

“Anything you’ve got,” Kylo replied. “Everything in the First Order fleet. Anything in the systems we’ve taken. If you can capture and board my ship within a week, you win. If you can't, I win.”

There was a moment where Hux simply processed this information, as his mind came to a complete standstill. Then, a grin spread, maybe unconsciously, over Hux’s face. It looked bizarre to Kylo, until he realized that it was strange because it reached his eyes, which practically glowed with anticipation.

"Am I to assume that it is the act of boarding itself that constitutes a victory? It would not be enough to simply catch your ship in a tractor beam?"

"If I can get out of the tractor beam and escape before you manage to board my ship, it doesn't count."

“I pick your crew.”

Kylo frowned. “No subadults.”

“Of course not,” Hux snapped. “Per regulation, they serve only aboard the capital ships.  Do we have a deal?” Hux watched Kylo intently.

He still had concerns, not least because Hux looked like the loth-cat that had found a silo full of cream, but…Kylo nodded.

He stuck out his hand and Hux immediately grasped his. His hand was as slender and pale as the rest of him, but the grip was fierce.

“And if I win,” Kylo said, still holding on, “You have to give a speech telling the whole galaxy how it happened.”

The term didn’t faze Hux, who continued to grin at him with that terrible confidence.

“Of course, Supreme Leader.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the obligatory meet the crew chapter...
> 
> What, did you think Hux was going to give Kylo the pick of the litter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And also, now because I used the phrase “no half measures” it made me envision a Kylux AU in which Armie begins to produces methamphetamine (or some other engineering-related feat) to pay for medical bills (while slowly becoming “the General”) and Ben (street name Kylo Ren) is basically Jesse only they’re a lot closer in age (former classmates or some shit) and hmmmmmmm...I’m sure someone has thought of this and written some variant on it though…
> 
> THE MOST IMPORTANT QUESTION IS WHO GETS TO BE MAH BOI MIKE. *delighted sparkly gasp* WAIT I KNOW. CANADY. Phasma can be Skylar because Skylar is also badass.
> 
> I would also just like to point out that, apparently, more or less routine periodic executions as a form of, erm, motivation is actually canon for the FO. I didn’t make that up.

The General had outdone himself, with his usual assiduous lack of anything that could even be mistaken for chill. He stood proudly with datapad in hand, a barely-hidden, ravenous gleam in his eye, Captain Opan at his left elbow. Peavey had been left in command on the bridge for the moment.

All week, Hux had almost been giddy. He had _smiled_ once or twice, which was so unheard of that it had started to give half the crew the creeps. The other half had started betting on what could possibly have lifted the General’s mood so much that he had not ordered Petty Officer Errick executed for nodding off for a few minutes on his fifth straight midwatch. Motivational executions along with all other forms of mandatory fun had been put on hold in preparation.

The tiny curl of his lips that had lingered on Hux’s lips all week had now become a full-blown smirk. Hux stood under the ship’s shade in the bright lights of the _Finalizer_ ’s hangar bay, which was still half-wrecked from the disaster over Crait.

Kylo couldn’t quite help but scowl even in spite of the sneaking spasm of admiration he felt for Hux’s efforts. One thing he could say for the General without reserve—no matter what it was, he took no half measures in anything.

The ship was an absolutely ancient freighter that probably dated from the earlier days of the pre-Civil War Republic, possibly Corellian. It would have been completely obsolete even in Darth Vader’s lifetime. Someone had spot welded a much more recent turbolaser to the top of it and it gave the ship a lopsided, cartoonish look. Kylo had not thought it was possible to find a less reliable-looking ship than the _Millennium Falcon_ , but trust Hux to deliver.

“It can go into hyperspace, can’t it?” he asked. Had he made that specification? It had been a week, he couldn’t quite remember. A lot had happened. “Does it have a functioning navicomputer?”

“It does have a hyperdrive. But ships so old that they don’t have navicomputers are only found in museums, these days. There are none that are space worthy.”

“And you would know.”

“I made many inquiries and performed a thorough search.”

“I’m sure you did.”

While under normal circumstances the comment would have elicited, at the very least, an unamused dead-eyed stare, Hux ignored it.

“Let’s acquaint you with your crew, Supreme Leader.” Hux gestured to the small group off to the side. “The _Catspaw_ is a small ship. A complement of three will suffice.”

The tiny woman dragged before them was flanked on both sides by Stormtroopers, her wrists in stuncuffs. She wore a stained prison jumpsuit, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She had the red hair that was so common in the First Order, but pulled back into a poorly managed bun.

“Private Liv Nona,” Hux read off his datapad. He looked up at her. “I imagine you’re quite pleased to see something besides the _Argenta_.”

She looked between the pair of them, as the Troopers removed her cuffs.

“Kindly go kriff yourselves.”

Kylo was so taken aback by surprise that he didn’t kill her. Hux, notably, didn’t say anything. So Kylo glanced at him, and there saw the smug look just beneath the surface. Felt through the Force, Hux was practically twirling through an alpine field, his arms flung wide, singing something about sentient topography.

“According to the Standard Judicial Code of the First Order, as derived in its current form from the Imperial Code of Military Justice, that constitutes gross insubordination, and carries a punishment of immediate summary execution.” She looked between them, expectant.

“I think in this case a stay of sentence may be appropriate, pending the conclusion of this exercise,” Hux said serenely. “Supreme Leader, I might add that no replacements will be provided for…lost crewmembers.”

“You’ll want to kill me sooner or later,” she remarked. “Everyone does. Come on. _Give in to your anger_ …”

Kylo stared at her.

“Is there a problem, Supreme Leader? We have few enough personnel to spare. We are, after all, still engaged in open hostilities with General Organa’s pitiful excuse for a _Rebellion_. Or are you admitting that you cannot succeed while abiding by the terms of the agreement which you set?” Hux pulled the point his stylus off his datapad and waited.

Kylo turned back to Nona.

“Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?” Kylo demanded of her.

“Yyyep,” she replied, popping the P. “The stars know I should at least recognize that one, _at least_.” She nodded at Hux. “He’s at the top of every chain of command holo-board and insists on narrating all the training holos himself. Even the holos for when you get to the prison hulk.”

“At the _top?_ ” Kylo blurted out a shade suspiciously, sliding a glance at Hux.

“Well, your picture is small and slightly offset somewhere at the margin,” she said helpfully, with a grin. “Okay, technically it’s the _top_ margin? But the label is always too tiny to read. I think they might have just deleted Snoke’s picture and pasted something under yours, because the format hasn’t changed. But don’t quote me.”

That was something he could hash out once this was over, too. For now, he considered what to do…

“Private…Nona, was it?” he said, carefully and seriously.

She waited. His glower seemed to slide right off as though her bouncy smile were a deflector shield.

“If I kill you, it’ll be by tossing you out into cold space,” he said and jerked his thumb at the ramp. “Board the kriffing ship.”

Her expression crumpled. “I hate space.”

“Then I’m sure that isn’t where you want to die.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. Her thoughts were quiet but could best be approximated by _touché_. She sighed hard, turned on a heel, and marched up the gangplank into the ship.

“Next,” Hux called out. “Lieutenant Cider, front and center.”

A man approaching middle age in an impeccable charcoal uniform strode forward.

“Lieutenant Neel Cider, formerly commanding officer of the _Emprise_. He’ll be your second-in-command.”

Cider saluted crisply.

“It’s an honor, Supreme Leader.”

Kylo immediately stiffened. Nothing but a vague, uncertain earnestness gazed back at him. Kylo went over each syllable carefully, looking for a shred of mockery.

Surely Hux wouldn’t have given him a competent officer…

The light flicked on in Kylo’s head.

“The _Emprise_ is a Star Destroyer, but you’re a Lieutenant?”

Cider flinched almost invisibly.

“I was demoted, Supreme Leader.”

“Failure to follow the orders of a superior officer, insubordination…” Hux looked up from the list of charges with a smile. “You’ve had a spotty record in recent years, haven’t you, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, General,” Cider agreed, his gaze flicking away momentarily, obviously nervous. “Supreme Leader, I hope that through my actions here I may be able to prove myself worthy again of…of the First Order’s trust and faith.”

Hux continued to smile at Cider, but glanced at Kylo.

Kylo just continued to stare at the Lieutenant, whose composure was not infinite. Cider swallowed hard and waited, a blanch leeching into the pallor of his skin. He looked almost ghostly, with blonde hair in the process of running to white. The only really noticeable splash of color in his face were in the dark circles under his eyes.

“Go and make sure the Private hasn’t started tearing the wiring out,” Kylo said curtly.

Cider saluted again and rushed on board like fire licked at his heels.

“The last member of your crew came with the ship itself, but is not a member of the First Order regular forces. Josifus Marek, step forward.”

_Can he do that?_

_I didn’t say he couldn’t…_

A middle-aged man walked up. He wore an aged and battered technician’s jumpsuit overlaid with a civilian jacket. Something about the jumpsuit bothered Kylo until he recognized it for what it was: something he’d only seen in holos, or surfacing irregularly whenever the oldest members of the First Order cleared out their lockers: an Imperial uniform. This one looked as if this man had lived in it since the fall of Jakku. He had a bag slung over my shoulder.

“Thank you for your continued service, Ensign Marek.”

The man simply stared at Hux in bland distaste and waited.

“Have you forgotten all sense of decorum, _Ensign?_ ”

“Have your balls dropped yet, _boy?_ ”

Hux’s good humor vanished instantaneously. He lowered his datapad and stepped forward. He was slightly shorter than Marek.

“Do not forget that you are a traitor, Ensign, and I have not yet decided whether to have you executed for desertion at the end of this exercise.”

Marek clenched his jaw.

“My apologies,” Marek grit out. “ _General_.”

“That’s an Imperial uniform,” Kylo pointed out. “Where did you get it?”

Marek’s eyes flicked to Kylo’s face. “Used to be an Imperial officer, before you were born.”

“Why didn’t you retreat with the rest of the Imperial forces after Jakku?”

The older man shrugged. “Guess I just didn’t feel like going the rest of my life without shore leave.”

 _Hux is only looking for reasons to make me call an end to it_. Kylo looked at the General, annoyed but not surprised. Whatever terms he might have set and promised, Kylo might have been worried about sabotage, but this was as much a matter of pride for Hux as it was for himself. The only kind of anticipation in Hux was that of clearly demonstrating his superiority.

“Anyone else?”

Marek raised an eyebrow at the scene as Hux turned and fixed Kylo with a sudden suspicious glower—and wisely chose to take the initiative and step away from the pair at that moment, headed towards the ramp.

“As I said before, Supreme Leader, it has been determined that three crew members are appropriate for a ship this size. You’ll have an hour’s head start, as agreed, and a week to evade the full strength of the First Order. When your ship is apprehended—”

“ _If_ my ship is apprehended—”

“I expect you will surrender graciously in defeat.”

Kylo and Hux glowered at each other coldly for several seconds. The fluorescent lighting of the bay washed out Hux’s pallor and made him look even paler than usual. He appeared sleek and steely, like the blade he knew Hux kept spring loaded on his wrist at all times. A self-satisfied twist continued to linger on his lips.

Kylo scowled harder.

“Start writing your speech early, General. I want it to be a good one.”

He swept past Hux at such close quarters that he would have checked his shoulder, if the other man hadn't just barely shifted out of his way.

* * *

*

Captain Yago, still without another command of his own, observed the little ship making its way away from the _Finalizer_ from the starboard side viewport until it finally vanished into hyperspace. He stood with his hands placed behind his back. Peavey stood next to him, silently radiating his exasperated discontent from the very same posture.

“Well, look at it this way,” Yago muttered lightly, leaning over a little so that they could be discreet. “With a little luck, they’ll be distracted with each other long enough that we can actually win this war.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who else is convinced that shoulder checking is the default Imperial passive-aggressive flirt move? *cough* Or maybe I've been reading too much Imperial Drama EmpressxIce King *coughtarkrenniccough*

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so, I’ve just got to say: I’m sorry, but I always found the whole Senators-as-young-women-with-older-male-advisors thing to be incredibly creepy, Leia Organa and the very positive relationship she clearly had with Bail Organa being a singular exception. Palpatine was, well, Palps, so that was a foregone conclusion of creepy and Naboo is lucky that Padme had a hell of a spine, but we see the Pantoran Senator and TCW and I get the feeling those are the exceptions to the rule and…The Empire’s like, I mean, the Empire, but the Republic was literally tottering along partially on young people trained from childhood to be shepherded around by the people who held real power.


End file.
